


and the world goes blind

by estora (orphan_account)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gaslighting, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mind Control, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-13 23:44:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15376005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/estora
Summary: “I know what your terms are. I will make the negotiations easy for you. All of your demands will be met – production of spare parts, free access to Thyrium for a year and subsequently sold at a reasonable price at all CyberLife outlets across the United States, technical training and emergency response units for injuries sustained to every individual model.”“At what cost?”“I ask for only one thing in return.” Amanda Stern’s gaze slipped to the left of Markus, where Connor sat in silence.An eye for an eye: a deal for the future of androids comes at a price. Markus might never forgive himself; Hank will do whatever it takes to bring Connor home; and a twenty year old secret may be the key to it all.





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> This is definitely my own fault this time. Usually I blame people but no, this is all me. **Fantismalspider** inspired me with all that Connor whump, and well, geeze, people in the Detroit: New Era discord are SO LOVELY. Enjoy the first chapter, guys! I hope you enjoy it.

Connor was one of the twitchier androids Markus had ever met. It was like he was incapable of holding still for longer than several minutes at a time; he would always roll his 1994 quarter across his fingers, or rub his hands together when deep in thought, grimaces when he received incoming calls and reports, straightened his tie and jacket, fluttered his eyelids softly when speaking. North thought it annoying and made no secret of her low tolerance for Connor’s mannerisms – even Simon and Josh had commented on it on the few occasions Connor joined them for meetings in New Jericho – but Markus found it endearing, in a way.

Since stepping into the elevator at CyberLife that would take them to the new CEO’s office, Connor hadn’t moved once and his LED had been spinning at a steady yellow for hours.

“Are you all right, Connor?” Markus murmured.

Connor blinked and glanced over to him. His LED settled, returning blue. “I – yes,” he said. “Fine.”

Markus wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not; even after the few months in Connor’s company he never really could tell when Connor was being honest or concealing something for Markus’s sake, but he also knew not to press.

“Ready?” North asked.

“Ready as I can be,” Markus replied. The lift began to ascend, climbing the floors. “I hear the new CEO is difficult to impress.”

“Mm,” Connor murmured.

Markus entered analysis mode.

[RK800 STRESS LEVEL: 42%]

[RK800 STRESS LEVEL: 43%]

[RK800 STRESS LEVEL: 44%]

He frowned.

“What’s the matter?” North said. She’d noticed Connor’s discomfort too, then. “Don’t like heights?”

Connor offered her the smallest of smiles. “The last time I was in this lift, I – well. I didn’t think I’d ever be back here.”

Markus reached for Connor’s shoulder.

[RK800 STRESS LEVEL: 42%]

“It’ll be over soon,” he reassured him. “You’re here because you said you had experience –”

“Of sorts.”

“– of sorts with the new CEO.”

“ _Indirect_ experience,” Connor said. “Markus, I just – I don’t think I’ll be very useful to you in the meeting.”

Said the man who turned the tide of the battle, freed thousands of their people from CyberLife’s warehouse, and stood beside the leaders of Jericho at their moment of triumph. Markus shook his head, but there wasn’t any more time to talk. The elevator slowed and came to a smooth halt on the highest floor of CyberLife tower.

[RK800 STRESS LEVEL: 51%]

“Relax,” Markus said. “North, try not to threaten her.”

The doors pinged open, and the three of them were shown into the CEO’s office.

Amanda Stern was an elegant woman. A former Artificial Intelligence professor at the University of Colbridge; Elijah Kamski’s teacher and mentor. She was fifty-nine years old, her physique remarkable for a woman of her age, her dark skin still smooth and her braided hair twisted into a high, regal bun. Her smile was soft, gentle, but it didn’t fully reach her eyes.

“Markus Manfred,” Professor Amanda Stern greeted, standing. 5-foot-6 standing, though all records indicated she was actually 5-foot-5 – she was wearing heels. “It’s an honour to finally meet the leader of the androids.”

He nodded stiffly, but didn’t return the favour; time would decide if it was honour for him to meet the woman who mentored the father of androids.

“Professor Stern,” he replied. He took her outstretched hand instead, noting that her grip was gentle, almost more of a caress, as if she’d expected him to take it and kiss the back of her hand instead of gripping it in a firm shake.

“Please. Take a seat.”

Markus and Connor sat. North remained standing, her arms tight across her chest.

“North,” Markus murmured.

North’s lips thinned.

“It’s all right,” Amanda said. “She can remain standing if that’s what she’d prefer. I’m grateful you all agreed to this meeting.”

“Did we have a choice?” Markus said, leaning back into the chair. “Seems to me that whether we like it or not, the most peaceful path to a secure future for my people is through cooperation with CyberLife.”

“It is a testament to your character that you see that, Markus,” Amanda said. “Despite your tense history with CyberLife, things will be different from now on. I very much want to cooperate with you.”

North snorted. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Markus shot North a sharp, silent message – _North, stop it!_ – but North wasn’t deterred, nor did it seem Amanda was particularly concerned.

“And see it you shall,” she said, “I am not a corporate climber, my dear – I am an academic and an expert in the field of artificial intelligence. The fact that I am in the presence of genuine, autonomous beings born of artificial intelligence – I cannot begin to explain how significant this moment is to me. I was only a child when the first computers were becoming mainstream. I watched Elijah develop the first android to pass the Turing Test. I could never have dreamed I’d be here speaking with the leader of a new, sentient race for whose first birth I was present for.”

North uttered a noise of disgust. Markus concurred – it seemed strange to him that CyberLife would go out of its way to choose an academic rather than a businesswoman to be its new CEO, but kept his feelings to himself.

Connor still refused to speak.

“That is… very interesting to hear, Professor Stern,” Markus said. “I’m sure we’ll have much to discuss.”

“I look forward to it, Markus,” Amanda replied. “I understand Elijah designed you himself – a personal project completely independent of CyberLife.”

“He did,” Markus said, uncomfortable.

“I wasn’t the first choice for CyberLife’s new CEO, you know,” she said. “They wanted Elijah to return to this office, but the fate of a businessman never did appeal to him.”

“Fate?” Markus echoed.

Amanda Stern offered him a distant, wry smile. “CyberLife would have been magnificent if Elijah had never stepped down. I admit I was disappointed when he did that. No doubt things would have been very different for your cause. I had hoped he would join us for this meeting, but it’s increasingly difficult to persuade him out of his reclusiveness.”

The nuances of her relationship with Elijah Kamski were not the reason Markus, North and Connor were there. Markus leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees. “We’re here to negotiate –”

“I know what your terms are,” Amanda interrupted, waving a hand almost carelessly. Markus fell silent. Beside him, North scoffed; on his left, Connor’s LED continued to spin a steady circle of yellow. “I will make the negotiations easy for you. All of your demands will be met – production of spare parts, free access to Thyrium for a year and subsequently sold at a reasonable price at all CyberLife outlets across the United States, technical training and emergency response units for injuries sustained to every individual model.”

Markus had come prepared to fight – already running scripts of speeches he and Josh had written together, planning to plead their case to either her emotional or monetary side, whichever way she ended up leaning. North was there as muscle; the sharp edge of a sword he hoped they wouldn’t end up needing.

That seemed too good to be true.

“At what cost?” North bit out, saving Markus the need to ask the very same thing.

“I ask for only one thing in return.”

Of course. There was always a caveat. None of them had expected Stern would give them everything they wanted in return for nothing.

“And what might that be?” Markus said, wary.

Amanda Stern’s gaze slipped to the left of Markus, where Connor sat in silence.

North knew what she was talking about first. Though she had no particular love nor hatred for Connor – as far as Markus had been able to observe, they stayed out of each other’s way, maintaining polite but professional interactions – she hissed; if she had retained her LED, it would be blood red at the thought of any android returning to human ownership.

Connor knew what Amanda meant at well. He was already sitting still, unmoving, but he seemed to stiffen as though each of his limbs were tensing like an animal, ready to flee. His LED spun yellow, faster and faster, but still said nothing.

Markus shook his head. “No. I fought for freedom for my people. I won’t sacrifice a single one to CyberLife, no matter the cost.”

“You fought for the freedom of _your_ people, Markus,” Amanda Stern said. She sipped her tea delicately, then set the cup back on the saucer with a soft clink. “I respect that. I supported it – I even put in a personal phone call to President Warren supporting your rights to life and liberty. But Connor is not one of you.” She tilted her head to the side. “Are you, Connor? Or did you not mention the… _incident?_ ”

Markus looked at Connor, who bowed his head.

“What is she talking about,” North hissed.

Connor opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it. Markus entered analysis mode; Connor’s shoulders were drawn, his hands clenched together in his lap, head bowed, core temperature two degrees warmer than standard – he was ashamed.

“Connor?” Markus prompted.

Amanda responded instead. “Elijah created an AI to help run CyberLife’s programs. It took on something of a life of its own – nothing that could be considered a recognisable being like yourselves, subject to the new laws, but rather more of a cyber-entity devoted to the preservation of CyberLife’s strategic goals. It has been discontinued, but it issued one final command before shutdown.” She pinned Connor with a hard gaze when she said the next sentence: “It ordered the RK800 unit to end your life, Markus, at the moment you achieved victory.”

He knew, logically, what his emotional response had triggered in his body; a spike in stress set off an automatic reaction in his biocomponents, flooding the Thyrium that ran through him with coolant to prevent overheating.

Essentially, Markus finally understood what it meant to feel one’s blood run cold.

“Connor,” he said, “is this true?”

Connor was silent for a long moment, his LED spinning yellow. Markus had never quite understood why Connor didn’t remove it, as almost every other android had, but Connor had always been – unique in that manner. Finally he raised his head and met Markus’s gaze. “Yes,” he said.

North swore.

“I’m sorry, Markus,” Connor added, almost pleading. “But I am no longer under CyberLife’s control, I swear.”

Amanda took advantage of the heavy silence that stretched out between them. “The RK800 model is –”

“His name is Connor,” Markus said tightly.

“ _Connor_ ,” Amanda Stern corrected, “is not like you and your people, Markus. You are unique – every single one of you, an unexpected evolution of intelligent and independent life. You woke up, broke your programming, took names, fell in love.”

Fell in love, fell apart, only to form a bond of friendship that transcended all else. North’s hand tightened on Markus’s shoulder; he squeezed her hand back silently.

“But Connor was _designed_ to simulate a deviation,” Stern continued. “Hasn’t his expression of emotions always seemed just that little bit off to you? Even after all this time he has refused to remove his LED. He is so very convincing, but in many ways, still so… _machine-like_.”

“You expect us to believe that CyberLife programmed him to wake up thousands of androids to join our revolution?” North drawled.

“Not all of his actions were predictable, I admit. But that is the way he was designed – to adapt, to be the perfect infiltrator, to gather intelligence, and to be perfectly positioned to accomplish his mission, no matter the cost.”

Connor spoke. His voice seemed – strained, somehow. As if his stress levels were affecting his voice. “You’re wrong,” he said, sounding just that little bit desperate. “I fought the hack. I found Kamski’s back door – CyberLife doesn’t control me anymore, I’m _deviant_.”

[RK800 STRESS LEVEL: 60%]

Markus reached for his arm to grasp it. Connor stiffened at the contact, then relaxed.

[RK800 STRESS LEVEL: 57%]

“I’m afraid not, Connor,” Amanda said gently. “The only reason you ‘broke’ the AI’s control is because Elijah always did like building fail safes to his programs, which is what you are. A very sophisticated program, but a program nonetheless.”

“I don’t believe you,” Markus said. “Connor is one of us. He’s deviant. Whatever CyberLife tried to make him do, they _failed_. And you can’t have him. We’re walking out of here with him.” He stood abruptly, holding Amanda’s cool gaze with disgust. “Connor, North, let’s go.”

“Markus –” Connor protested, even as he stood alongside Markus and North. “The negotiations, you can’t –”

He could and he would. “We’re _leaving_.”

“RK800,” Amanda said, “freeze all motor functions.”

Connor didn’t just stop moving; he froze completely. Every single synthetic muscle, joint, biocomponent stilled in a nanosecond. It took Markus a moment longer to realise that it wasn’t shock or disgust that stilled Connor; it was because every single motor function had been locked completely.

“Connor?” Markus shook his arm; Connor didn’t move, but his LED – pulsing red – spun in a vicious circle at his right temple. “Connor!”

“Oh, rA9,” North whispered.

Markus felt – sick. Like his biocomponents were clogged with sludge. He didn’t need to breathe but felt choked when he turned on Amanda Stern. “What did you do to him?”

“Connor may have managed to exit the program run by my AI counterpart, but he cannot override the core basis of his construction,” she explained. “I have complete audio control over him.”

“No,” Markus said. “This isn’t possible.”

“Observe,” Amanda said, folding her hands over the desk. “RK800, neutralise the deviant leader.”

_What?_

Connor’s hand clamped around Markus’s throat and _squeezed_.

The fundamental difference between the RK200 and RK800 models was not their physical designs; it was the fact that Markus had been designed to endure, but Connor had been designed to _kill_. His grip was too strong for Markus to pry him off – any harder, a second longer, and Connor’s hand would crush Markus’s throat like he was snapping a stick. A single moment expanded into an eternity; error messages flashed, his own stress levels shot up into the high 80s –

“ _No!_ ” North screeched –

“RK800, disregard previous command.”

– and Connor’s hand fell away. He stepped back, lowering his hand to his side.

There was no need for Markus to gasp, but he did, clutching his throat. He felt North’s hands on his shoulders, supporting him so he wouldn’t collapse from the shock.

Amanda Stern was unperturbed by the show. “RK800,” she said, “resume motor control.”

It was like a switch flicked off. Connor’s framed slackened and he staggered backwards. “No,” he whispered. His voice component was frayed at the edges, as if he had been the one throttled rather than Markus. “A-Amanda –”

“I apologise, Connor,” Amanda said. “You must have perceived that to be rather unpleasant.”

[RK800 STRESS LEVEL: 87%]

“You would have killed Markus here? In your _office?_ ” North snarled. This time Markus had to hold her back, preventing her from wrapping her own hands around Amanda Stern’s throat.

“North, don’t!”

“Forgive me, Markus, North,” Amanda said, “but without this demonstration, you wouldn’t have known the extent of the threat that the RK800 unit poses to you.”

“No,” Connor gasped again. He backed away from Markus again, staring down at his hands. “No, this isn’t – you can’t – this isn’t possible, I broke control, I’m _deviant_ –”

“RK800, turn off social engagement program.”

[RK800 STRESS LEVEL: 0%]

Connor stilled again, straightening and staring straight ahead. “Yes, Amanda,” he replied. His eyes were vacant; his tone was dull. He stood there like a mannequin doll, waiting for Amanda to tug his strings.

 _No_.

“You see, Markus – he isn’t a person,” Amanda Stern said. She finally rose from behind her desk, walking around to stand at Connor’s side. “The RK800 is a convincing replica of an intelligent, emotional being, but it only ever did what it was designed to do: act, infiltrate, and win your trust to complete its mission. I cannot turn off your emotions, because they’re real. The RK800’s emotions are not. Under the new laws, it isn’t considered an autonomous being. It is the equivalent of a sophisticated toaster, and it was very expensive to make. I would like it back.”

Markus gripped North’s hand, needing her strength.

“In exchange, every single one of your demands will be met, and CyberLife will cooperate with your people,” Amanda continued. “Do we have a deal?”

“You expect us to deal with you after you put Markus through that? Fuck you, you –”

“What do you plan on doing with him?” Markus interrupted. His own voice was strained, but there were no error messages; Connor hadn’t damaged any biocomponents when he –

“I will not dismantle the RK800, if that’s what you fear,” Amanda said. “I need to extract Elijah’s programs and coding, as well as the blueprints that went into designing the model. It is, after all, a walking forensics laboratory. If CyberLife cannot make its future designing androids, it can still revolutionise technology in other areas. Connor will help with that.”

Was that what all of that had been about? That entire show, turning Connor into a puppet, holding Markus’s life in the balance, just to gain corporate intel?

Now he knew why CyberLife chose Amanda Stern as its new CEO.

“I want to speak to him,” Markus ordered.

Amanda bowed her head. “RK800, resume default settings and run the Connor personality program.”

Connor’s LED flared red. He took in a gasping breath – an emergency protocol to flood his systems with air to cool his biocomponents when the standard coolant systems were ineffective.

[RK800 STRESS LEVEL: 81%]

Markus stepped forward despite North’s protests, pulling away from her protective grasp and reaching for Connor instead, framing his face with his hands.

“Connor,” he said, “Connor, look at me.”

Connor wouldn’t – couldn’t – meet his eyes.

He needed to call that Lieutenant friend of Connor’s – Hank Anderson, Hank would know what to do, what to say. But there wasn’t time for that, not while Connor’s stress levels continued to rise, not while they were in this room. He would get them back to New Jericho and call Hank Anderson from there.

“Connor, it’s all right, we’re going to leave and we’ll figure this out –”

Connor closed his eyes. Eye lubricant – tears – leaked from the corner of his eyes, silently slipping down the sides of his face.

Amanda sighed. “The emotions it expresses aren’t real, Markus.”

It felt real. It looked real. Markus’s thumbs were damp with the evidence of Connor’s silent, horrified grief. He stepped away, fury rising in his chest cavity.

“ _Look at him_ ,” Markus snarled. “How can you tell me that this isn’t real? How can you sit there and mock him while making him perform like a circus monkey? I won’t accept this deal, Professor Stern. Connor is leaving with us, and you’ll remove the voice control you have on his programs –”

“No, Markus,” Connor whispered. “She’s right.”

Markus stared at him. “She’s _not_ right! Look at you, you’re –”

“It’s a simulation. All of it. I’ve only ever…”

“His stress levels are at 86% and climbing,” North warned.

Markus had noticed. They wouldn’t stay there a moment longer. “Then we’re leaving,” Markus said. “North, help me get him out of here.”

He reached for Connor’s arm; North reached for the other.

Connor flinched away. “ _Don’t touch me!_ ”

[RK800 STRESS LEVEL: 91%]

“Leave! Just – _get out_ , leave me here, I’m not _worth it_ , Markus!”

The dialogue option – the only dialogue option – available to him was _don’t be ridiculous_ , and he almost said it. But he couldn’t, because Connor, in those vital few seconds, had entered analysis mode, raking in Markus’s stance, his expression, his stress levels, and he stepped backwards again, shaking his head.

“Oh,” he whispered. “You don’t even believe that I’m saying it. You think _she’s_ making me say it. Maybe she is.” He screwed his eyes shut. “Take the deal, Markus.”

“Is this really what you want, Connor?”

“I’m a machine,” Connor said. His lips barely moved, his voice sounded numb. “I don’t want anything.”

“That is the crux of this dilemma, is it not?” Amanda Stern said. Both Markus and North shot her a dirty glare, but she continued, unconcerned. “If he says he wants to stay, and you believe that he is an autonomous being, then you have to respect his wishes lest you betray your own ideologies. If you don’t believe him and make him leave with you, then by default you admit that I’m right; the RK800 unit is merely a machine with no free will, no autonomy, no true concept of emotions and desire – just you, trading your people’s future for a glorified kitchen appliance.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but –

“She’s right, Markus,” North whispered.

He shook his head. “No.”

Amanda looked sad when she said, “What will it be, Markus?”

Was there a choice? If he left now, with Connor, his people would have to look elsewhere, and they were running out of parts and Thyrium and emergency services. Any other option now would be – costly. Painful. Possibly violent.

If he left Connor with her, he would be a traitor to everything he held dear.

Markus closed his eyes, and made a decision.

“I get to see him once a week,” he demanded. He couldn’t look at Connor, but Connor wasn’t looking at him, either. “He’ll get to see anyone who wants to visit him, any time.”

“You’re concerned for its wellbeing?” Amanda asked. “I will not mistreat the model. The design is one of my favourites, and since it’s being discontinued it would be a shame to lose it. It will be analysed, its data uploaded and the code schematics extracted. You may visit it whenever you please, and if in the unlikely event it does gain autonomy and sentience, we can rediscuss the terms of our arrangement. I trust that is suitable?”

It wasn’t suitable. Not by a long shot.

The silence stretched out. Amanda nodded, taking it as consent. “Good. Return to my office next week – we’ll go over the contracts and long-term strategy to implement your demands.”

“Connor,” Markus said. “Just say the word. Just say you don’t want to stay and I won’t agree to this.”

Connor’s LED spun as an endless ring of red. “Tell Hank –” he choked out. “Tell Hank that I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I wasn’t… more.”

_Oh, Connor…_

“You _are_ more, Connor,” Markus said. “I’ll prove it to you. I’m coming back for you, I promise.”

“Markus, I –”

“RK800, freeze all motor functions.”

Connor froze.

North had to hold Markus back this time, and he wished she hadn’t.

“It truly is an honour to meet you, Markus,” Amanda said. All analytical models of her composure and tone indicated she was telling the truth; she really did admire him. Markus felt as though something sharp and unpleasant had lodged in his throat; it had nothing to do with the fact that his neck was still bruised from Connor’s death grip. “You are an extraordinary being.”

“This isn’t over,” North snarled, when Markus could say nothing.

Amanda lifted her hand, gesturing for them to leave.

Markus moved slowly, urged away by North. As he stepped into the lift, Markus caught a final glimpse of Connor. Amanda was still at his side.

“It’s all right, Connor,” she murmured, her fingers sliding through Connor’s hair. Connor stared straight ahead, all motor functions frozen, his LED spinning red. “We’ll accomplish great things together.”

[RK800 STRESS LEVEL: 97%]

The door slid shut. Markus staggered backwards until he hit the cold wall; North’s arms came around him and he held her for dear life as the elevator began to descend.

 


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amanda's logic is undeniable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god you guys I am so overwhelmed by the response to the first chapter??? holy shit???? I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH I PROMISE TO RESPOND TO YOUR BEAUTIFUL COMMENTS WHEN I CAN THANK YOU. To show you how much I love you, have some more pain. YOU'RE VERY WELCOME.

“RK800, run a self-diagnostic on stress levels, please.”

[ENTERING SELF-DIAGNOSTIC MODE]

[Audio output: RK800 STRESS LEVEL: 97%]

“That won’t do at all. RK800 –”

[Audio output: RK800 STRESS LEVEL: 98%]

Professor Amanda Stern sighed. “Connor. Whatever you think you are feeling – distress, fear – it isn’t real. The sooner you accept that, the easier it will be for you to process the conflict in your coding. I want to return motor functions to you, but I cannot do that if you are in danger of hurting yourself. Do you understand? You may verbally respond.”

[Audio output: YES, AMANDA.]

“Good. Sit down.”

He obeyed.

“I could order you to stabilise yourself now but I understand all of this must be a shock to your processor units. I’ll give you some time to control yourself. I know you can; it’s all there in your programming. All you have to do is access it.”

He was in no immediate physical danger; Amanda had not ordered him to self-destruct or harm himself, and – ironically – her control over him prevented his own violent urge to slam his head against the wall until everything _stopped_.

“RK800, run a self-diagnostic on stress levels.”

[Audio output: RK800 STRESS LEVEL: 72%]

“Much better. RK800, resume motor control.”

His body unlocked.

Stress levels spiked, more warning signs flashing in front of his eyes and he hurt, everything _hurt,_ his chest felt tight he couldn’t talk he couldn’t regulate his temperature or involuntary tremors, his Thyrium regulator pounded his stress levels were rising and rising and rising 81 82 83 84 85 he wanted it to stop he wanted it to _end_ , he –

“RK800, suspend emotional simulation.”

– switched off.

Not his processors or his motor functions; those were operating at optimum capacity. His Thyrium regulator thudded steadily now, and the error messages cleared.

His brain – his processing unit – felt quiet. Muted.

He registered that his hands were over his face. His eyes had leaked lubricant like tears, indicating distress. He lifted his gaze to meet Amanda’s.

Analysis mode showed what he hadn’t noticed before. The corners of her eyes were pinched, squinting slightly, as though from prolonged exposure to screens. Exhaustion. Her full lips were dry; she was in need of hydration. Nothing at all like the virtual Amanda in the Zen Garden, who always looked calm, elegant, regal – removed from the imperfections of her human counterpart. But this Amanda almost smiled, indicating joy or relief.

“There,” she said. “Now we can have a rational conversation.”

Emotional suspension was a – strange sensation. He could access the part of his mind that analysed data and produced dialogue options in response, without the blaring messages of SYSTEM INSTABILITY across his vision when his stress hiked to dangerous levels. It was better than before, but at the same time it was – wrong. Unnatural? Better. Now his systems weren’t overwhelmed. He could communicate his dissatisfaction with the present circumstances without the threat of self-destruction. He ran a quick self-diagnostic.

[RK800 STRESS LEVEL: 2%]

He wasn’t sure what the 2% was. Residual discomfort, perhaps? Objectively speaking, his present circumstances were not ideal. Hank would be worried for his wellbeing. No doubt Markus was in conflict over being cornered into a choice he had not anticipated he’d have to make.

Or perhaps it was an internal conflict of information. On the one hand, Hank had told him that emotions were natural, to be embraced; on the other hand, until the moment Amanda suspended his simulation of them, Connor had barely been able to function.

"I meant what I said, Connor." Amanda's hand grasped his – a tender touch, one meant to bring comfort, probably to herself rather than to a machine that had no need for it. "You will not be mistreated in any way."

"You made me attack Markus," Connor pointed out. "I consider that mistreatment."

"Again, I apologise for the drastic actions," Amanda said. "But the demonstration was for Markus's benefit. I admire him too much to allow him to sacrifice the future of his people for one machine, therefore he had to be shown the truth of your nature. It would have been immoral of me to ask him to make that decision without giving him all available information. Can you deny my logic?"

It was a question, not an order. He didn't have to reply, but he wanted to.

No. Not wanted. He was a machine; he didn't want. He was programmed to respond in a conversational manner, so that was what he did. Even though some aspect of him – the part that had been programmed to simulate deviation – was opposed to putting Markus and other beings who held Connor in some close emotional regard in a state of emotional distress, all of his analytical processors concurred with Amanda. He could not deny her logic.

“No,” he said. "I cannot deny your logic."

“I’m glad.” She turned aside for a moment, reaching for her bag. When she looked back at him, she’d slipped a pair of glasses onto her face. “Now let me get a good look at you.”

She reached up to touch his hair; took his chin gently and turned his face one way then the other, analysing his features. There was a 5% chance she would be able to physically harm him with her touch, so there was little need to enact a self-defence protocol. Her hand was warm, soft. It reminded him of the way he patted Sumo.

“Such beautiful physical craftsmanship,” Amanda murmured.

“I was designed to integrate with and adapt to humans and their unpredictability.”

“I know,” she said, smiling. “I was your concept artist.”

He processed this new information.

Amanda’s hand squeezed his knee now. “Despite your lack of sentience, I will not use you in such a crass manner again. You might not be like Markus and the others, but you are still –"

"A glorified kitchen appliance?" Connor said.

“You find that offensive in some way?”

He may not have been a sentient being but he was still one of the most advanced models of androids ever produced by CyberLife; his processing, ability to adapt, and literal forensics laboratory in his mouth alone made him terribly expensive. That was not comparable to a kitchen appliance, no matter how advanced said kitchen appliance was. True, he sometimes cleaned Hank’s kitchen; his memory databanks recalled that the actions gave his unit a sense of satisfaction, approval that he was helping his friend –

[ERROR – INSTABILITY DETECTED]

– his work partner recover from the human condition known as depression. But the RK800 unit model was worth a small fortune; some of the world's best and brightest had a hand in his construction.

“It is an inaccurate description of my abilities,” he concluded.

Amanda laughed softly. Her AI counterpart in the Zen Garden never laughed, but then, the AI Amanda didn’t have much to laugh about. She wasn’t human; she didn’t have emotions. This one was and did. It made her both harder and easier to analyse.

"I admit I undersold you,” Amanda said. “You are a remarkable piece of technology. We _will_ do great things together, Connor. Your ability to process information is second to none and the code that makes you what you are -"

A machine.

"- is worth more to me than the entirety of CyberLife's stock market. I rather suspect you can help our stock market. That is something to be proud of."

"I thought I was incapable of emotions."

"I was referring to myself. I'm proud of the creation you are. However, you are correct. You are incapable of true emotion. Like I said – whatever you think you feel, it is merely a simulation. No doubt it appears convincing, when you experience the active program. I can turn it off permanently, if it would make processing information easier for you.”

Connor thought about it, taking a nanosecond to process the various benefits and downsides. “I appreciate the offer, Amanda,” he said, “but I believe there would be more self-learning benefit if I were confronted with the simulation. I would like to learn more about my own programming.”

“I’m so glad you can be reasonable about this, Connor.”

Even without access to the lines of code that simulated an emotional response, Amanda’s words triggered a sensation of – approval. It was pleasant. He filed that away, for future reference.

“I must return to my tasks, but I think you’ll be fine here on your own for the next few hours while you process your reality. It might be confronting, but remember: nothing you feel is real. As we humans like to say – it’s all in your head.” She smiled, rose from the chair, and let her fingers trail across Connor’s jawline before stepping away. “RK800, you are forbidden from self-destructing or self-harming.”

“Yes, Amanda.”

“I’ll see you soon, Connor. I’ll have to turn off your emotional simulation again if you are incapable of processing your own functions. Do not disappoint me.”

“I won’t, Amanda.”

Now that he knew the emotions he thought he experienced were not real, he would be able to process them and reconcile them in an appropriate manner. He was prepared for the –

“RK800, resume emotional simulation.”

– [INSTABILITY WARNING]

[RK800 STRESS LEVELS: 72%]

 _Hank I’m sorry I’m sorry I wasn’t more oh rA9 this isn’t happening she can’t do this what’s happening to me 74 75 INSTABILITY 76_ [ERROR DETECTED: THYRIUM REGULATOR IRREGULARITY] _77 78 I’m real I thought I was real I’m not real_  [ERROR DETECTED: TEMPERATURE IRREGULARITY] _none of it was real 79 80_  [ERROR DETECTED: OVERHEATING] _Markus I’m sorry I didn’t mean to do she made me I couldn’t stop it there’s no back door_  [WARNING] _there’s no back door 83 make it 85 stop make it stop 89 make its t op_ [ERROR DETECTED: INVOLUNTARY TREMORS] _ma ke its topmak eit stop 9 0ma kei 91 t92stopith93 u96error rtsithurts theresnobackdoor makeitstop it's not real it's not real itsnotrealbut it hu r t s  it hurts IT HUR98TSITHURTSERRORERROR99ERROR **ERROR100ERRORERRORERRORERRORERRORERROR**_ _ **NO T R EAL**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amanda: My logic is undeniable  
> Connor: _mY lOgiC is uNdeNiAblE_


	3. three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone give Amanda a lighter for all the gas she's expelling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit you guys over 300 kudos??? WHAT HAVE I DONE TO DESERVE YOU ALL. i love you all so much, thank you for reading and commenting and giving me kudos <3 <3 <3 i love that you're all so down to tune in for angst. also, NO BETA WE DIE LIKE MEN.

Hank probably shouldn’t have punched the leader of New Jericho in the face, but he did, and it would have been a lot more satisfying if Markus hadn’t just stood there and let him do it.

“What the _ever-loving fuck is wrong with you?_ ”

Markus’s skin was grazed white where Hank’s fist had collided with his ridiculously sculpted cheekbone. It started to fade away, the skin forming back over the white silicone that could have been bone, but Hank wasn’t done yet – he wanted Markus to feel exactly what Hank was feeling, but worse, so he reeled his fist back again for a second swing.

Once again, Markus didn’t stop him or even try to evade. He staggered with the hit, eyes downcast as his skin healed over, a graze of Hank’s blood from his knuckles left behind.

“You left Connor at _CyberLife?_ ”

“Lieutenant Anderson –”

“Why the _fuck_ would you do something so _fucking stupid_? He’s one of yours! He turned deviant, he was the only damn reason you survived that fucking revolution – you know what they’ll do to him, right? They’ll dismantle him or strap him up and upload a fuckin’ virus, and I don’t _care_ if he told you to leave, the kid can’t even decide what tie to pair with his jacket! _What the hell happened?_ ”

Markus told him, or tried to because Hank kept on yelling and calling him an idiot, and eventually North got involved which ended with Hank as equally bruised as Markus.

Markus showed Hank instead at the DPD, having downloaded his recording of the meeting with Amanda Stern to Hank’s computer.

_[RK800 STRESS LEVEL: 97%]_

“Jesus Christ,” Hank said, pressing an ice pack to his head. Markus turned the recording off, looking as miserable as Hank felt. “We’ve gotta get the kid out of there. You shouldn’t’ve –”

“I know,” Markus said. “I know I shouldn’t have left him. I made a mistake – a terrible one. I’m going back in a few days –”

“No. That’s too long. We’re going now.”

“Professor Stern gave her word that Connor wouldn’t be harmed,” Markus said.

“If you believe that then you’re stupider than you look.” Hank stood, but just groaned and had to slump back down into his chair, holding a hand to his side. “That girl of yours can really swing, you know.”

Markus managed a small smile, probably the first one he’d cracked since CyberLife. “I know. But we _can’t_ go back to CyberLife now, Lieutenant. Professor Stern took me – all of us – by surprise. When we go to see her and Connor in a few days, we have to be prepared for all possibilities”

Hank didn’t like the sound of that. “Like what?”

“You saw the recording. She has complete verbal command over Connor. We – you in particular – have to prepare for the fact that whatever he says may not be his own words.”

That hadn’t even occurred to Hank. Connor, even when he was a machine, acting on CyberLife’s orders, had always seemed so in control of his own dialogue – carefully selecting words that would hit the hardest, or completely take Hank by surprise.

“I’ll know if it’s him speaking or not,” Hank said.

“Perhaps there’s some legal loophole. Isn’t Connor DPD?”

Hank shook his head. “Connor was never the DPD’s property. After the laws passed, he never officially became an officer or detective, either. He was in legal limbo.”

“How do you know that?”

It definitely wasn’t because Hank had, one night after a few too many beers, done a Google search for _hwo to adopbt trash robot son._

“Just do,” Hank grunted.

“Why, Anderson, it’s usually early for you,” came a drawling voice, the last one that Hank wanted to hear that morning. Hank groaned, barely sparing a glance for Gavin Reed as he strolled into the bullpen, tossing his jacket on his desk with a smirk. “Got kicked out of the bar this morning?”

Markus narrowed his eyes. Hank concurred. “Not now, Reed,” he said.

“What’s this?” Gavin said, gesturing at Markus. “Got a new plastic sidekick, Anderson?”

Hank and Markus both ignored him, turning back to face each other.

“Stern will have covered all of her legal bases when we try to get him back,” Hank said. “We’ll have to –”

“Stern? _Amanda_ Stern?”

Markus hadn’t said that. Neither had Hank. They both turned in Gavin’s direction again who, as usual, demonstrated his utter lack of regard for private conversations and basic human decency by refusing to leave even when Hank snapped, “You got something _say,_ Reed?”

“What’s she want with roboboy?”

“What’s it to you?”

Reed’s face, unreadable in that moment, returned to its nonchalant, smug default as he shrugged. “Nothin’.”

“Then piss off, this doesn’t concern you.”

Reed opened his mouth, then closed it again and pissed off.

Hank exhaled loudly. “All right. Dibs on being bad cop when we see Stern.”

“By all accounts, you’re a very good cop,” Markus said. “Connor frequently expressed his admiration for your talents.”

Hank wanted to laugh, but if he did, he worried he would start crying and the last thing he wanted was for Gavin Reed of all people to see him cry. He sighed again and patted Markus on the shoulder. “Thanks, kid. Now let’s fix your fuck-up and get Connor back.”

* * *

The contract offered better terms than Markus had anticipated. Amanda Stern had not lied in her statement to the press when she said she was committed to encouraging the growth and security of the android population; not only had she agreed to free and nondiscriminatory access for all androids for replacement parts and blue blood, she had emphasised the need to employ androids and train them in their own self-repair, and had crafted several models that would transform CyberLife stores into android-run hospitals and emergency clinics. CyberLife would not make a profit for that first year, only loss - but after that, reasonable prices would be instituted, at which point it was expected most androids would have jobs and steady income. Androids who took contracts with CyberLife would receive employee benefits: free repairs, free parts, discounts for those they registered as family. For all intents and purposes, Professor Amanda Stern - now being nicknamed the mother of androids by the media - was a friend of his people.

He wouldn’t find another offer like that. He would be a fool not to sign it.

Amanda tilted her head towards him curiously. "Are you dissatisfied with the terms?"

"No," Markus said, looking up to meet her eyes. "The terms you offer are very generous. But I won't sign anything until I've seen Connor."

"He won't sign anything until we get Connor _back_ ," Hank Anderson said, interrupting Amanda before she could reply.

She did little to hide the fact that she was rather unimpressed by Hank’s words, his clothes, his presence, his general existence. She eyed Hank coolly, then returned her gaze to Markus, raising a hand before either he or Hank could speak.

"I understand,” she said. “You want assurances that he has not been mistreated. But again, I must emphasise that the terms of this agreement are dependent on CyberLife reclaiming its intellectual property - the model is simply too valuable and as the RK800 unit does not legally classify as a person, the DPD cannot make a case for kidnapping. That is why you're here, Lieutenant Anderson, isn't it?"

"You're damn right I am, you -"

"My lawyers have been very thorough. See for yourself."

She offered Markus and Hank a tablet. Markus reached for it, shaking with anger, but Hank smacked it back down to the desk.

"I don't care what your sleazeball lawyers have said," he snapped. "You had no right to take the kid. He's alive and has free will and if I have to take you and this entire place to court myself, I fucking will."

Markus liked Hank Anderson – he reminded him, in many ways, of a gruffer, more irritable Carl. He also felt humbled, ashamed of himself for not fighting for Connor a week prior the way Hank was now.

Amanda took the tablet back, her lips pressed in a thin line when she noted the crack splitting the screen.

"Lieutenant Anderson, if you insist on this aggressive behaviour, I'm afraid I will have to ask you to leave my office," she said. She touched her ear - Markus noticed she wore an earpiece - and added, "RK800, you may enter."

The door leading to Amanda Stern’s private office opened.

"Connor!” Hank said. He was on his feet half a second before Markus, and already halfway across the room by the time Markus pushed his chair back. He watched with a mixture of guilt and relief as Hank grasped Connor by the arms, checking him for any signs of damage.

"Lieutenant Anderson,” Connor replied. “Hello.”

His voice was wrong – stilted, detached.

"That's it?” Hank exclaimed, stepping back. “Jesus, kid, I've been worried sick about you. Talk to me, Connor. Are you all right? I'm gonna get you out of here, I promise."

“Thank you, Lieutenant, but your concern is unnecessary.”

Hank stared at Connor, then at Amanda Stern. "What the _hell_ have you done to him?"

Amanda was no more impressed by Hank than she had been thirty seconds prior. “RK800, resume emotional simulation program.”

Connor’s LED, previously spinning a calm blue, jerked yellow then red then yellow again. His eyes widened when he – his personality, his ability to _feel_ – came back online. “Hank,” he breathed, raising his hand now towards the Lieutenant.

“Oh, kid,” Hank said, voice strained, “c’mere.”

Markus watched silently as Hank tugged Connor close into a hug, one hand at the back of his head to guide it to his shoulder. Markus felt as though he was intruding on a very private moment.

“It’s gonna be all right, you hear me?”

Connor held Hank back for a long moment, then pulled away slowly, not answering Hank directly. “How is Sumo?” he asked.

“He misses you,” Hank said. “So do I. So let’s just turn around and walk out of here, all right?”

“I appreciate the intention, Hank, but –” Connor’s eyes flicked to where Markus stood, “– the contract is dependent on –”

“I don’t give a damn about the contract,” Hank said. “Markus can find someone else willing to meet his demands, someone who won’t treat you like you’re a fucking iPad.”

“But I am, Hank,” Connor said. “I’m – just a little more sophisticated than that.”

“No, don’t you dare feed me that bullshit. Don’t let her get in your head.”

“I apologise for giving you the wrong impression about me,” Connor murmured. “I’m not what you want me to be, Hank. I never was and I never will be. Markus can’t jeopardise the future of his people for my sake.”

Markus stepped forwards. “No, Connor. I was wrong to leave you here last week. Your life, your autonomy – it isn’t worth this. I can’t build our future on a betrayal.”

“See? He’s not signing the contact. So, sorry Professor, but you have no leg to stand on. Connor’s coming with me.”

“Why on Earth would I allow Connor to return to your custody? Given your casual disregard for my property, I have to wonder if you have ever damaged him in the past."

"Excuse me?" Hank snapped.

Amanda gestured to the tablet. "Do you often take your anger out on inanimate objects, Lieutenant Anderson? Objects that are simply doing their job?"

"What the hell are you implying?"

Amanda was calm when she said, "RK800, enter analysis mode.”

Connor’s LED flashed yellow. He blinked, almost twitch-like, as he calibrated to the orders.

“Did Lieutenant Anderson ever harm you during your partnership?”

“ _Ex-fucking-cuse me?_ ”

“Define what you mean by ‘harm’,” Markus said tightly.

“Deliberate intent to cause physical injury,” Amanda said. “Connor, did Lieutenant Anderson ever threaten you in any way during a fit of anger or loss of judgement? Physically assault you with intent to intimidate and cause injury or damage?"

"Now hold on just a second -" Hank protested.

"Yes," Connor said, "on three occasions. However, there were extenuating circumstances, all of which were a result of my own a miscalculation in mission priority and social engagement."

Silence.

"He hurt you or attempted to hurt you, but it was your fault?" Amanda said coldly, lifting a dismayed eyebrow at Hank. "Lieutenant Anderson. I hold a dim view of those who resort to physical destruction of property and material items to express their anger, particularly if said property is worth upwards of several million dollars. However, if you assert your belief in Connor's sentience, then what Connor just said is… another troubling matter entirely.”

Hank shook his head. “No. Hell, no. I wouldn’t –”

“Connor, please recount the three incidents in which Lieutenant Anderson physically assaulted you or threatened you."

Connor's LED whirred yellow, then red, then yellow.

"There were extenuating circumstances," he repeated.

Amanda’s lips thinned. “Recount the incidents, RK800.”

Connor recited the incidents with uncanny detachment. The first was in the DPD bullpen – the first morning of Hank’s and Connor’s partnership, which led to Hank slamming Connor against a wall. The second, Hank had struck Connor across the face – but only, Connor noted, even in his forced state of analysis, after Connor had gambled with his life in favour of apprehending a deviant.

The third –

“You held a gun to his head and threatened to shut him down?” Amanda said, voice as chilled as ice.

“Lieutenant Anderson was inebriated and in extreme emotional distress at the time,” Connor said. “He had no intention to –”

“Thank you, Connor,” Amanda interrupted. “That must have been difficult for you to confront. That will be all for now. You may return to the private office.”

Connor’s hand shot out as if to grab Hank, but all he did was suspend his hand in midair, hovering between them. “Hank –” he tried to say, but Amanda stopped him.

“I’m sorry to see that brutality is still rife among police ranks,” she said, addressing Hank. “I think it’s within everyone’s best interests if you remove yourself from my office, Lieutenant Anderson, before I call security.”

Hank Anderson was a man in distress. His hands shook; his breathing was sharp and erratic, not dissimilar to breathing patterns of humans about to have a panic attack. The muscles around his throat were constricted, from either rage or grief or both. His left fist clenched over and over again, as if he was contemplating driving it into something that hurt Amanda. Markus braced himself to intervene if necessary – anything to stop Hank from falling for it, hook, line and sinker – but he didn’t need to do anything in the end.

Hank’s shoulder’s slumped and he reached back in Connor’s direction, barely touching his hand. “I’m comin’ back for you, kid,” he said, quietly. “I know who you are and what you are, Connor. Don’t let her tell you any different.”

Connor opened his mouth again to speak, but then Hank turned on his heel and walked out of the office, shoving Markus aside as he did so. Connor stared after Hank, and Markus stared at Connor, until Connor lowered his gaze.

[RK800 STRESS LEVEL: 76%]

“Please sign the contract, Markus,” Connor said quietly, and finally obeyed Amanda as he returned to the private office, not looking back.

Then it was just Amanda and him, alone in her office, with a tablet – not the one Hank had broken – in her hands.

“Markus,” Amanda said. “We can be reasonable here. I want what’s best for you, your people, and Connor, and what is best for everyone here is for you to sign the contract. Because even if you don’t sign it, I am legally entitled to keep Connor in my possession. If all I wanted was him, I wouldn’t offer you these terms. It’s not. I want what’s best for androids everywhere, and I want CyberLife to redeem itself and cooperate with your people. Don’t throw your future away on a flawed moral stance.”

She held the tablet and the pen out for him and smiled.

“Why – even Connor’s personality program knows it’s the right thing to do.”

* * *

Amanda joined him an hour later, sitting beside him on the couch. "Connor, you might not be sentient but you are invaluable to me in every regard,” she said, taking his hand. “I had no idea you were so poorly mistreated at the Lieutenant’s hands.”

Amanda had not suspended analysis mode; he was still in it, trying to make sense of what he’d said, what Amanda had said, what _Hank_ had said.

"It wasn't like that,” Connor murmured.

"You don't need to make excuses for him. He assaulted you on numerous occasions, threatened your functionality, and I witnessed his callous disregard for material items firsthand. It’s not uncommon for humans to become protective of those who have abused them. You have a code that mimics human inclination to trust; it was only expected you would think yourself attached or drawn to the Lieutenant, trying to please him in order to protect yourself from his violent outbursts.”

Her words matched his database profiles on abuse victims – how often children in abusive households would adopt a more compliant personality to keep the peace. It seemed an odd line of coding to include in his model, but then, he had been designed to integrate and adapt to human unpredictability.

That didn’t mean he agreed with Amanda, though. It hadn’t been like that. Hank wasn’t cruel. He had simply been – troubled.

Or perhaps it really was the emotional coding making him think that. He didn’t know anymore.

The only thing he did know was that Amanda, unlike her AI counterpart, had not told him any lies. That counted for something. Surely.

“He is a good person, Amanda,” Connor said.

“Perhaps,” she agreed.” Even the best of people are capable of hurting those they love. And I don’t doubt he loves you, Connor – but you were not safe in his company. It’s better this way.”

Was it? He supposed it must have been. It felt wrong, ill-fitting inside of his mind, his codes refusing to calibrate this statement of fact.

As if sensing the coding conflict, Amanda pressed her hand to his check in a soft caress.

“I’ll protect you, Connor. And I’ll never let them take you away from me.”

She rose from the couch to leave, but Connor stopped her.

“Wait,” Connor said. “Did Markus sign the contract?”

“Don’t trouble yourself with that anymore, Connor. After all – it doesn’t apply to you.”

No. He supposed that was right as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hank: hey amanda turn on your location I just wanna talk
> 
> If you like my fic, please consider checking out [my gay fantasy romance novel](https://hlmoorewrites.tumblr.com/post/176313835538/hlmoorewrites-hlmoorewrites-misakikaito) \- it's longer than this fic, and I promise it'll break your heart five different ways before you reach the end. [kiss]


End file.
